


Baby, it was easy

by meansgirl



Series: Missing Scenes [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Episode Tag, F/M, M/M, Post-Me and Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meansgirl/pseuds/meansgirl
Summary: The Coming Out Brunch Remix, or, all the stuff Ngozi didn't show us ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Totally un-beta'ed because I am impatient as hell today and couldn't wait to post this. 
> 
> This can be read on its own, but it is a part of the Missing Scenes series :)

Mid-November, Jack thinks everything is fine. Not great, because he’s tired and a little stressed, and he misses his boyfriend pretty much constantly, but it’s still more or less fine.

He's coming off a long week away, and he's beat. The Falconers won some, lost some; it wasn't the best week ever, but it wasn't the worst, either.

Jack steps off the plane and thinks of bed. He thinks, _I'm getting in the car, texting Bitty, and then in an hour I'll be home and I'm going to bed and sleeping in tomorrow._

Jack felt restless before this trip. He saw Bitty a week ago, a rare mid-week visit that was shortened by an Amtrak delay and interrupted by Jack’s game. They had both been stressed and trying to pack a week’s worth of touch, sex, talking, and breathing the same air into less than 24 hours. It had left an itch under Jack’s skin that he’s been unable to shake off.

It's almost Thanksgiving, and Jack knows the upcoming break will be better. He plans to spend Thanksgiving night at Samwell, and Bitty will spend Friday through Sunday after the holiday in Providence. Jack has been reminding himself of that, aiming for something to look forward to and making himself ignore the fact that just a month later Bitty will be in Georgia for Christmas while Jack is still on the road and then in Providence. His parents are visiting him this year, since he has away games bookending that week.

This stretch into January is going to be hard, and Jack knows it. Between his schedule, Bitty’s finals, and the holidays… they'll see each other maybe seven days total over two months.

As Jack is exiting the plane with the rest of his team, he feels it all swirling around his brain and then away, his exhaustion working in his favor for once by making him too tired to really dwell on it just now.

He takes out his phone as soon as he’s up and moving, and sees almost a dozen missed calls an a voicemail from Bitty. He nearly stops moving, the worry is so strong and sudden. But he doesn’t stop, he just presses the right buttons and holds his breath, hoping nothing has happened.

Jack listens on his way down the steps onto the tarmac, and before his foot hits land, he knows he's not going home tonight. His phone is buzzing against his ear with an incoming call before he even gets through the whole message.

Jack makes his way to the Haus in the rain. It's an outright downpour for a while, and 95 would be a mess any other time of day. At 4am, hardly anyone is on the road. Still, Jack keeps a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and focuses on not sliding all over the place.

In the back of his mind, the conversation with Bitty before he pulled out of the airport garage is replaying itself. He keeps hearing Bitty say, “ _Sometimes it feels like I’m back in Georgia.”_ It punches Jack directly in the gut to think that Bitty feels like that in what’s supposed to be his safe place. That it’s Jack’s fault. He can’t stop thinking of Bitty’s face when he talked about staying closeted at home, the way his voice sounded when he said it, sad and resigned and _used to it_ . Jack never intended to make him get used to being miserable at _Samwell_ , and he feels like utter shit for doing that, even indirectly.

 _How did I let this happen_?

Jack lets himself wallow in that for a minute before forcing himself to shake it off. He won't show up at Samwell angry, even if it's directed inward. He can fix this, or at least start trying to.

*

Eric is dreaming. This isn't happening. Jack is not standing on the porch of the Haus dripping wet and looking like he ran all the way here from Rhode Island.

Except he is.

“Oh,” Eric chokes. “Oh, you fool.”

He doesn't know what he says then, just that Jack answers with, “You're not doing this alone. We’re a team.”

Eric has to bite his lips hard so he doesn't burst into tears right then, but Jack pulls him forward, and Eric presses his hot face into Jack’s chest and lets out a sob. Jack presses his lips to the top of Eric’s head and it makes him cry harder for some reason.

His heart thuds hard in his chest, and his hands shake where they grip the lapels of Jack’s suit. He is flooded with guilt, but also with relief. He feels as though his knees have gone weak, but he’s still standing and with Jack there to hold him up, he’s less afraid of the misery that’s been clinging to him lately.

A few long moments later, Eric pulls himself together and gets Jack quietly up the stairs. He whisper-babbles something about Jack getting dried off, and through the nervous rush of blood in his ears he vaguely hears Jack laughing softly at him. The rush dies away when they get behind Eric’s bedroom door. Eric lets out a whooshing sigh of relief; no one heard them and came to investigate.

Jack is already shucking out of his suit jacket, but he’s watching Eric’s face with concern.

“Bits,” Jack says, tossing the jacket over Eric’s desk chair. Eric clucks and reaches for it, goes to hang it up and get his face out of Jack’s view for a second. “ _Bitty._ ”

“Mmhmm?” Eric threads a hanger through the sleeves of the jacket and hangs it on the closet doorknob. He feels Jack’s fingers trace the knob of his wrist, and forces himself not to pull away and retreat, because he doesn’t really want to. For some reason it feels like he should, though. “Jack.”

“I meant what I said on the phone,” Jack says, wrapping his hand around Eric’s wrist, tugging him around. “Let’s tell them.”

“We can’t,” Eric whispers, shaking his head, still unable to look up at Jack’s earnest blue eyes. “I told you, that’s how it starts--”

“How _what_ starts?” Jack has dropped his voice low, too, soft, imploring. “Eric, just because we tell the boys, _the people you live with_ , doesn’t mean the whole world knows tomorrow. I _trust_ them, don’t you?”

Eric looks up, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Of course I do. But I don’t trust _myself_ . If I ask you to do this, if I _let_ you do this just to make my life a little easier, it’s just… it’s a slippery slope. I don’t want. I won’t pressure--It’s not fair to--”

Eric finally gives up, gives in to the gasping breaths that want to punch through him. He tries to turn away from Jack as he struggles to calm down, and his face crumbles into sobs. Jack doesn’t let him, pulls him in close, wraps him up tight.

“Bitty, breathe, you’re panicking, it’s okay.” He rubs Eric’s back with one hand, holds him by the back of the neck with the other. “Come on, bud, this isn’t me being pressured. You’ve never asked me for anything. Let me do this for you. And, also, _ask me for things_ , I want you to.”

Eric can’t help the broken laugh that falls out of him and into Jack’s shoulder. “Sometimes it feels like you being with me is all I could possibly ask. It’s so much.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Jack insists. “It’s _easy_ , Bits, don’t you get it?”

Eric sighs, hates the sniffle that follows. “I guess not.”

Jack pushes him back just enough to make eye contact. “Being with you isn't something you ask of me. Jesus, I've been asking so much of _you,_ I know you're exhausted. And now I know what this is doing to you mentally _besides_ that. No. We're fixing it.”

Eric feels his heart stutter, and the tears recede a little. His face burns, and he feels so overwhelmed with love and gratitude he's sure he’ll cry again if he tries to speak. He nods.

Jack kisses him, soft and close-mouthed. “Let’s do it in the morning.”

“I--” Eric stops, closes his eyes and gets it together a little bit more. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes._ ” Jack gives him a squeeze. “Of course.”

Jack steps away and goes for the buttons on his shirt. Eric realizes he’s still mostly soaked and moves forward, batting Jack’s hands away. “Here, let me. You're here, which is the silliest and second most romantic thing you have ever done for me by the way, so I may as well get to undress you.”

Jack lets him unbutton the shirt and busies himself with wiping stray tears from Eric’s cheeks. “Second most?”

“You'll have to try a lot harder to beat that first kiss,” Eric murmurs, yanking the tails of the shirt out of Jack’s pants and going for his belt.

“Noted,” Jack says drily. Eric gets his shirt off and the belt out. Jack moves to push his pants down and Eric sucks in a breath when he catches sight of a bruise blooming over Jack’s left shoulder and down his back.

“Jesus _fuck_ , is that from that check two days go?”

Jack winces. “Uh. Yeah. It looks worse than it is.”

Eric waits for him to straighten back up and step out of his pants before circling around to look at the bruise up close. He pulls air through his teeth and hovers his fingers over the already yellowing bruise.

“Ouch,” he says. Then, angrily, “I'm gonna send that fucker in Miami a poisoned pie, just look what he did to you.”

Jack laughs and turns, hustles Eric towards the bed. He flicks off the lamp and reaches over to switch on the string lights over the bed. “Okay, Bits.”

They crawl under the covers, and Jack spoons up behind him, curls their legs together.

“We can tell them over brunch,” Eric says into the near-dark of the room. “I'll send a group text. Maybe we should skype Shitty first.”

Eric feels Jack’s laugh against his back. “Uh. Well. Shitty’s here, though.”

Eric turns over onto his back. “No. He left last night, he said he has an early study group tomorrow.”

Jack hums and says, “Except he texted me right before I got here. He’s in Lardo’s room.”

Eric gasps and flips the rest of the way over to face Jack. “ _No._ ”

“Oh, yes,” Jack says, smile wide in the dim light. “He texted me a few hours ago.”

“Wait, is _that_ where she's been going? I _knew it.”_

“Don't say anything to anyone,” Jack says, cautious. “I think she’s trying to avoid being buried in chirps around here.”

Eric nods quickly, eyes wide. “Right, right. I mean, the boys probably won’t put two and two together when they see Shitty tomorrow, at least not right away. But Lardo knows I will, so. I’m getting deets. _So many deets._ ”

Jack laughs softly. “You do that.”

They fall quiet for a moment. Jack brushes his lips against Eric’s eyebrow, almost absently, like it’s a reflex, and Eric loves that, misses touches like that twenty-four hours a day lately.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so nervous.”

Jack presses his lips more deliberately to Eric’s forehead. “I know. But you don’t have to be.”

Eric doesn’t say anything more, and assumes they’ll fall asleep now. But before he can close his eyes and tell himself to take deep, even breaths, Jack speaks again.

“I’d like to tell my parents, too.”

Eric feels his entire body freeze. “What?”

“After we tell the guys, I want to tell my parents about us. Is that okay?”

Eric props himself up on one elbow and looks down into Jack’s face. He doesn’t look nervous. Actually, he looks… so calm. Eric can’t remember Jack ever being like this. He remembers angry, closed-off Jack. Tired, wrung-out Jack. Jack, the person who would run across campus and kiss him. Jack, earnestly asking Eric to help him outfit his kitchen. Eric can see, if he really squints, how all those Jacks were evolving into this person in Eric’s bed. But it still halts his breath and makes him feel shocky, all numb fingers and his face burning with the things he feels and can’t figure out how to say.

“You really want to?” He asks, finally.

Jack lifts both eyebrows. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to, I just wasn’t sure if _you_ would want me to, if we were...there. But. I think we are. Are we?”

Eric blinks against _more_ tears, _god_ , what is wrong with him tonight?

“We could be there,” he says. “You could have told them whenever you liked.”

“I didn’t want to ask that, when you’re still keeping it quiet with your family,” Jack says gently. “It seemed...uneven.”

Eric snorts. “You’re so. Jack. Yes, please, tell your parents about me. About us.”

“Okay,” Jack whispers, then pulls Eric down for a long, slow kiss. It could be the start of something, if it weren’t past five in the morning. The way Jack’s tongue slips past Eric’s lips, the way he holds Eric’s face just so, it’s the kind of thing that usually leads to making out, to slow, overwhelming sex. But it doesn’t, this time. Jack just kisses him, all full of promise and sweetness, and then tugs him all the way down and back under the covers.

Eric closes his eyes and falls asleep easily, to the cadence of Jack’s heartbeat and the rain outside.

*

In the booth at Jerry’s the next morning, Jack watches Bitty fidget with the sleeves of his sweater, drum his fingers on the table, shuffle the menus and the specials, and repeatedly flick at the strand of hair that falls over his forehead. Jack throws his arm across the back of the seat behind Bitty’s shoulders and leans in.

“Bits. You’re fidgeting like crazy.”

Bitty looks up at him, cocks his head to the side, and says, testy, “I am well aware of that.”

“Why don’t we get you a mimosa?”

“No,” Bitty sighs. “I can’t drink right now, I feel like my stomach’s gonna turn itself inside out.”

“A coffee, then,” Jack insists gently, and Bitty nods.

Jack flags down the server and Bitty orders something that sounds complicated. Once she walks away, Jack says, “Be honest, what you just ordered is more sugar than coffee, isn’t it?”

“Don’t chirp me about the coffee again,” Bitty says absently, but he isn’t fidgeting. “Not all of us like it black.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Jack says with a laugh. “Are you kidding? But I can’t drink all that cream and sugar. I’d have love handles in a _week_.”

Bitty scoffs. “You would _not_.”

“I _would_ ,” Jack counters. “You’ve never seen photos of me before high school. I was _chubby_.”

“Stop it,” Bitty giggles. “You?”

“You seem to think I follow a nutrition plan and work out constantly just because _hockey_ , but it’s a little more than that. I'm not naturally...” Jack makes a vague gesture with his hand, shakes his head. “God, when you showed up my junior year and started cranking out pies? I thought I was doomed. I used to have the worst sweet tooth. The absolute worst. And my body holds onto that stuff for dear _life_ . I don’t know how you eat all that pie and drink those lattes and frapps, and you’re still so _tiny_.”

“Well,” Bitty flushes. “My mama… she’s petite and, I mean, I guess I just take after her? I don’t know, lord.”

“Why are you embarrassed?”

“I just-- Look, I might be small but you have turned into a damn _wall_ _of muscle_ this year. You know that, right? All the brown rice and protein powder in the world wouldn’t get me there.”

Jack chuckles at that. He thinks, _Wow, he really has no idea what he actually looks like._ He says out loud, “You’ve probably put on fifteen pounds of muscle since I met you. You’re a serious athlete, Bits. You look like one.”

“Shut up,” Bitty gasps. “No.”

“Yes.” Jack reaches with the hand that rests just above Bitty’s shoulder and brushes his thumb just over the outline of his trapezius through his sweater and button-up. “I like it. I liked it when you were basically an _elf_ , two years ago. But I like this, too. You’re more powerful. Stronger.”

“I was not an _elf_ ,” Bitty protests, but just then his coffee arrives and a moment later they hear Holster behind them sniping at Ransom about something, and then the booth is filled with their friends all talking at once.

Bitty whispers to Jack as they carry on, “Should we? Or should we wait until we order, or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready, Bits,” Jack says. He makes sure their eyes meet, makes sure Bitty can see that he’s good, he’s ready for this, and checks Bitty’s face for any signs of panic. He doesn’t find any, just Bitty’s nervous but genuine smile and his big, dark eyes full of anticipation. Jack could just kiss him and let that be that, but he doesn’t.

Bitty clears his throat, draws the attention of the rest of the table and blurts, placing his hand over Jack’s on the table, “Me and Jack are dating!”

Jack keeps his eyes trained on Shitty, reveling in the moment it hits him, the way his best friend’s eyes go wide. The rest of the table is heavily silent, and even though Jerry’s is bustling this time of day, the quiet is _ringing_ , because no member of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team has ever been this utterly _still_.

And then Shitty says, “All right, so it looks like everyone owes Lards, since it’s before winter break--”

Beside him, Bitty goes limp with relief, and Jack looks down into his laughing face and would love nothing more than to kiss him and kiss him, catch that wide smile with his own lips. Instead he just watches and laughs, too. Bitty interrupts the pandemonium as their friends start tallying up their IOU’s.

“Y’all did _not know_ , stop!”

Shitty guffaws, “Bits. Honey. Sweetie. Darlin’. _Everyone knew you were seeing someone_.”

“Didn’t know it was me though, did you?” Jack says pointedly, one eyebrow raised.

“I suspected,” Lardo says. “Because I follow Bits on twitter, and I actually check my feed on the regular.”

Ransom points at Bitty, “I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for weeks.”

“We both have,” Holster chimes in. “You wouldn’t have had to mention Jack. You could’ve told us you were keeping your dude a mystery. But you could’ve told us there _was_ a dude. We’re _happy_ for you, Bits.”

“So happy,” Lardo agrees, reaching over to fist bump Bitty with a grin.

Shitty and Jack are still staring at each other. Jack just waits, watches calmly as Shitty’s mouth twitches under his mustache.

Finally, Shitty sighs, slumps in his seat. “So like, Lardo didn't clue me into the Bitty is Jack’s secret lover theory until maaaaybe a week ago.”

“And?” Jack prompts, knowing he looks smug as _fuck_.

“And,” Shitty says, casting his eyes to the side, “I owe you major apologies. For being a dick. A heteronormative dick. And also intrusive. And insensitive. And perpetuating a culture of toxic masculinity by--”

“Oh my god, stop,” Jack says finally, laughing. “Shits. Stop. It's okay. It's all okay.”

Down the table, Holster is saying, “But now that we know it’s Jack--”

“We have so many questions,” Rans finishes. “So many.”

Bitty is flushed bright red by the time their server comes back for their orders. Jack has gone completely, stoically silent as the group realized fairly quickly they weren’t getting deets from Bitty and moved on to bombarding _him._

“Oh thank god,” Bitty gasps as the waitress approaches. “Y’all shut up, I need waffles.”

Everyone laughs and backs off. Jack drops his arm from around Bitty’s shoulders so he can grasp his hand under the table. Bitty squeezes his fingers and leans into him, and Jack is almost certain he has never been this happy.

*

On the walk back to the Haus, the group divides. Ransom and Holster bring up the rear, arguing back and forth about Ransom’s general awareness of Samwell and its attractions. Jack and Shitty lead, talking quietly. Judging by the lack of shoulder bumping and boisterousness, Eric thinks Shitty might be trying to apologize again.

Eric and Lardo stroll together, bracketed by them. Eric gives Lardo a sidelong look.

“So,” he says. “Shitty’s still here this morning.”

Lardo keeps her eyes ahead, fixed to the back of Shitty’s head, when she replies, “Yep.”

“That’s interesting,” Eric lilts, sipping his to-go coffee as pointedly as he can manage. “Where’d he stay?”

“Like I don’t know Jack told you. Like I wasn’t sitting there when Shitty texted him.” Lardo shakes her head. “So subtle, Bits. We need to work on your sneaky side.”

“Fine,” Eric concedes. He offers Lardo his elbow and she takes it, tucking her hand into it and walking closer so they can speak softly and still hear each other. “Jack told me Shitty was still at the Haus and he was in your room. That’s all I know.”

“You can probably extrapolate from there, bro,” Lardo tells him. “Don’t make me draw you a diagram.”

“How long?” Eric whispers excitedly. “Since summer?”

“God, no,” Lardo snorts. “I wish. I _tried_ . Harvard or no Harvard, dude has been fucking _dense._ Bits, last night was _it_ . Like, the _first._ ”

“ _What_ ,” Eric jostles her. “But wait, so you haven’t been sneaking off to Boston? I figured that’s where you’ve been all these weekends, but--”

“Oh, I fucking went there,” Lardo says. “He was being _a gentleman_ . He actually used that word. Shitty Knight said that. Like… like I’m. Fucking. Helena Bonham Carter and I needed a chaperone. It was _bizarre_.”

Eric laughs, watches Jack and Shitty turn their heads to look back at them. Shitty double takes at the way Eric and Lardo are walking arm-in-arm, heads bent together. He looks mildly alarmed, and like he wants to hurry back to them and put an end to the obvious swapping of deets, but Jack nudges him and he turns back to whatever they had been saying. Eric snorts. “Wow. Poor Shitty. You confused him. You broke his feminist mechanism or whatever.”

“It was stupid,” Lardo says fondly. “But it’s okay.”

“Is it a secret?”

Lardo shrugs. “Nah. I just… we’re gonna be chill about it for now, keep it sorta private, just because it’s kinda nice that way. But like. You know. I love him or whatever.”

Eric stops walking, yanking Lardo to a stop with him. He hears Holster behind him crying, “Whoa, Bits! Warn a guy!” A second later and and Ransom split off to walk around them, shooting them raised eyebrows. Eric waves them on.

“Wait,” he says to Lardo. “Really?”

Lardo smirks at him. “You’re being so middle school about this,” she says. “I don’t hate it, let’s do our nails when we get home.”

“Done,” Eric says absently. “I’m just. Wow. It’s like that.”

“Yeah,” Lardo says, her smirk melting into something a little softer. “Weird, right?”

“No,” Eric shakes his head. He gives Lardo a one armed hug and tugs her so they can walk again. “Not weird. So good. I’m so happy for you guys. I’m gonna bake a pie.”

Lardo leans up and pecks his cheek.”You’re the best, brah.” Then, “So, alright, spill -- when Jack came busting through the door at Graduation, did you expect him to tell you to eat your protein one more time or were you ready for the kiss?”

Eric throws his head back and laughs.

*

Jack gets ready to say goodbye to Bitty in his room a couple hours later. The frogs and a couple taddies had tumbled in just as they arrived back from Jerry’s, and Jack can still hear them downstairs, complaining about being left out.

“I’ll pull Chowder aside later,” Bitty says, perched on his desk. “Dex and Nursey would be okay too, but they don’t live here so… I’ll have to have a long talk with Chowder about the importance of being discreet.”

“Don’t worry too much,” Jack says from where he sits on the bed playing mindlessly with Señor Bun’s ears. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem, and even if he told the other two, I doubt they would spread it around.”

“Aren’t you worried about someone slipping up?” Bitty asks, “ _I_ am. I feel like you should be, considering it’s your career on the line.”

Jack smiles, shakes his head. “I think I’ve confused you a little. I think I’ve made you think… I gave you the wrong idea.”

“Explain,” Bitty says, twisting his hands in his lap.

Jack stands, sets the bunny gently against the pillows, and crosses to stand between Bitty’s knees. “Eric. You’re not gonna ruin my career.”

“But--”

“No. Wait. Let me… Just let me say this, then you can give me a rebuttal or whatever. I’m not coming out publicly right now. But I won’t wait too long. It’s not a matter of _years_ , Bits. I don’t want you thinking that.”

Bitty runs a finger down the line of buttons on Jack’s shirt. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And when I do, it’ll be quietly. I don’t plan on a press conference. Or a statement, right away. I don’t want that. It’s not going to be a circus from the word go. It might _become_ one for a while, but I’ll deal with it. And I’m good at my job, things have been going really well, so I don’t think it will _ruin_ my career. And if it does…” Jack sighs. “Well, then it does. And that sucks, that’s a fucking shame. But I’ll _live_.”

Bitty shakes his head. “I can’t even think about you risking it. You’re amazing, you deserve a long career, and you love hockey more than anything.”

“No.”

Bitty scoffs. “Yes. Please, Jack, everyone knows this.”

Jack _finally_ knows he’s reached The Moment, just then. It’s like he’s gone light and very, very heavy all at once, air in his lungs and the ground solid under his feet. He looks at Bitty, who is looking down at his own hands where they fidget with Jack’s buttons. He takes in the sweep of Bitty’s eyelashes, the delicate upturn of his nose, the way there is still a sprinkle of freckles there from the sun he got this summer. He remembers the sunburn Bitty got his first day in Providence. He remembers Bitty’s eyes lit up by fireworks in a field in Madison.

Jack tilt’s Bitty’s face up, two fingers under his chin. He leans down, kisses him, pulls back and opens his eyes.

“I love _you_ ,” Jack says, and he can’t believe his voice doesn’t shake, because he feels like he might rattle apart. “You know that, yeah? More than… more than _anything_.”

Bitty’s hands fist in Jack’s shirt. He looks momentarily stunned, eyes wide and lips parted, looking up at Jack with a faint blush under the freckles, across his nose.

“Jack,” Bitty says, and _his_ voice comes out a little wrong, a little choked. “I did _not_ know that, I...God. I love you, too. I love you. Jack--”

Jack grins, passes it to Bitty on a kiss, and they smile stupidly in each other’s faces, foreheads pressed together.

“I should’ve said it months ago,” Jack says. “I didn’t want to be too… much.”

“Months ago?” Bitty laughs. “Wow. I… I think I’ve loved you for a long time. _I_ was afraid of being too much, _I’m_ the one who… I was _gone_ on you, forever ago.”

“I love you,” Jack says, just to say it. “And I’ll be smart about my career, okay? But I won’t… I won’t keep you a secret forever. I can’t. We’ll… figure it out. Okay?”

“Yes,” Bitty breathes against Jack’s lips, presses forward for a kiss. “Okay.”

“Let’s get through this season,” Jack continues. “Let’s get you through this school year. Let’s just… Bits, just be with me, and I’ll be with you, and we’ll be discreet but we’re not going to keep up this pressure. It’s no good, it’s not _necessary_ . Let your friends know, _talk_ to them. I’ll talk to my parents. Maybe… maybe some of the guys on the Falconers… I don’t know, maybe that should happen soon? Maybe just George. I want this to be _good_ , I want to be good for you, Bits.”

Bitty lets go of Jack to press his fingers to his eyes. “You sweet boy,” he says, a little wetly. “You _are_.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go runnin’ off telling the Falconers front office just yet, like some big gesture.”

“I won’t.”

“But thank you, Jack. I… I needed you here so badly, and you came. I needed them to know, so you made it okay to tell them. You have no idea how much-- Thank you, baby. I love you.”

Jack draws him in, kisses him, and it’s long and soft and perfect. Bitty runs his fingers down Jack’s cheeks, around to the back of his neck, through his hair, and Jack clutches him tighter than he means to, but it’s good, it’s great. When they part for air he says, “I have to head back. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bitty assures him, soft. “I understand. I’m so glad you came here, and I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Right after the game,” Jack promises.

“Okay.”

They kiss one more lingering time, then Jack forces himself to back away.

“Love you, Bits.”

Bitty’s smile lights Jack up.

“Love you too, honey.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> visit me on tumblr! adventuresinsuburbia.tumblr.com
> 
> Title for this comes from Justin Timberlake's "Mirrors" because I am a sap.


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